


Wrapping Up

by alafaye



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Multi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-25
Updated: 2012-12-25
Packaged: 2017-11-22 10:33:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,731
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/608882
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alafaye/pseuds/alafaye
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It's December and the holidays are far from calming.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Wrapping Up

**Author's Note:**

> Written for the holiday challenge at the LJ community "adventchallenge". Prompt is "argument".

"Sir," Donovan said. "Journalists."

Greg swore under his breath and looked toward the police tape blocking the public view. There were several there, all of them watching eagerly. "Who the hell let them know we're here?"

"Maybe they followed the Freak?" she suggested snidely.

Greg shot her a warning look. "I'll head them off. Find John, make sure he's with Sherlock."

She nodded and with another dark look at the waiting journalists, left. Greg took a deep breath and walked right into the mess.

"Detective Inspector," one called. "Is this the same murderer as the one who has been leaving body parts as messages across London?"

"Inspector!" another called. "Are the body parts from the same victims?"

"Is this the work of a serial killer?"

"Has Sherlock Holmes been helping you?"

"Why were the charges against Sherlock Holmes dropped?"

Greg waved his hands, trying to get the questions under control. "We do not yet know that this is a murder. This is a simple investigation where we are collecting evidence to determine what happened. So far, we have nothing that says murder. We also do not yet know if there is a rash of murders, there is no evidence connecting any of them."

"Wrong," Sherlock said as he walked by, John in tow.

John looked apologetic and harangued and exhausted. No matter what Greg had said, there had been several murders within the last month that all pointed to a serial killer. No one at Scotland Yard wanted the public to know, but now Sherlock Holmes had stepped into it again. Greg decided the long, painful talk he'd had with Sherlock about what and what not to reveal to the press had been for nothing.

Greg quickly wrapped up the questions, smoothing over Sherlock's comment and assuring them that there was nothing to worry about. He was exhausted at the end, but he quickly found his team who were doing their own wrapping up.

"Anything?" Greg asked.

Anderson nodded. "Yeah. Sherlock found it--the cuts on the body? Match the others. And we are missing a foot."

Greg let out a breath. "Alright. Get it to the lab and go home. Get all the rest you can--tomorrow we're getting a profile on this guy."

"You really think it's a serial murderer?" Donovan asked. Silence fell in the house, everyone seeming wanting to hear the answer.

Greg rubbed the back of his neck. "I think so. I'll get the profile as soon as I can and I'll find out what Sherlock knows."

Things closed up pretty quickly after that. Greg dropped what he needed to at the Station and then left for Baker Street. Despite his exhaustion, he needed to talk with Sherlock. Either before he slept or after he woke up. Either would do.

~~~

"Greg has reminded you again and again," John ground out. "Do not talk to the media."

"What difference does it make?" Sherlock asked. "They'll muck it up anyway."

"And any lead we might have had against the killer is now gone," John reminded him. "As soon as that news story hits the air, he'll know the police are putting things together."

"Their collective intelligence will not take my one comment into any coherent sense," Sherlock said dismissively.

"Right," John decided. There was stomping and an unsettled silence fell in the flat.

Greg stepped into the room and raised an eyebrow at the mess. Apparently, even the murders had Sherlock twisted around the bend. John was at the table, laptop open. Sherlock was in the kitchen, messing about with his microscope.

"Don't tell me you took some of the evidence," Greg groaned.

"Nothing you would consider evidence," Sherlock muttered. "A simple scraping of the front entrance. From the carpet."

"You mean where we all were mucking about as we came in?" Greg reminded him. "Anything you picked up will be contaminated by us."

"Unless I am able to eliminate what I know of your team's habits," Sherlock mused smugly.

He was right the bastard. He could do it. Greg tossed his coat over John's chair and loosened his tie. "So what have you got?"

"He's male," Sherlock rattled off. "The footprints were too big to be a female. Not obese, but neither the healthy medical preference. Large hands and yet used to delicate work. Murders his victims in a surprising number of ways, but never in a way to damage what he is after. He is not collecting for trophies or to recreate something he lost."

"He sounds like a Frankenstein wannabe," John sighed defeatedly.

Greg frowned and he noted Sherlock even turned his head. "How do you mean?" Greg asked.

"Well, so far, we've been losing different body parts, yeah?" John said. "Isn't that what Frankenstein did in his own way? Took the best of the bodies available to him and sew them together to make the perfect specimen for reanimation?"

Sherlock hummed thoughtfully. "Interesting. Keep that in mind, I might need it later."

"When later?" John muttered. "For this case or the one in ten years?"

Greg smirked. He left Sherlock to his microscope and looked over John's shoulder. It looked like John was on Facebook. "What's all this then?"

"Finding evidence that Sherlock's comment will be detrimental to the case," John said.

"The press is going to muck it up," Sherlock huffed.

"They'll upload a video," John returned hotly. "There was at least one camera there recording and you're still popular enough that they will show the entire clip, including your little input, and it will explode the forums."

"Serial killers like to keep tabs on their fame," Greg agreed. He rubbed John's shoulders. "Look later. You need to sleep so you can show him up later."

"You mean keep tabs on him," John said. "I know you sent Donovan to make sure I kept an eye on Sherlock."

Greg frowned. "Sorry, but someone needed to. If no one had, his one little comment would have been a lot worse and I needed to address those reporters."

"No, that's me, don't worry," John moaned. "I'm just Sherlock's handler, I get it. I keep an eye on him, keep him from doing stupid things and saying the wrong thing at the wrong time."

Sherlock yelled from the kitchen. "Got it. Thames, down near the mouth. John!"

"Bugger off!" John countered. "It can wait until tomorrow."

"He might be gone by then," Sherlock said. "After all, my comment might make him jump ship. Isn't that right?"

"Don't mock me, Sherlock," John growled. He turned from the desk, standing up, forcing Greg to step back. "Don't you dare."

Greg took a deep breath and stepped between them before someone got punched. _Again._ "Alright. Enough. We're all clearly on edge and I think at least two of us need to sleep. Yeah? Sherlock, go sit down and keep analyzing the evidence you took. John, with me."

John grumbled as Greg pulled him up the stairs. He batted Greg's hands away when he started to undress him. "I can do it. I'm not that incompetent."

Greg sighed and forced John to sit down. He knelt between John's legs and rested his hands on John's knees. He looked up, doing his best to look contrite. "Look, I'm sorry. Okay? I didn't mean to say that you are in any way less useful than any of us. I won't ever forget the number of times you've shown up just in the nick of time to save my ass from getting shot. Or his. You'd have made a damn fine police man, John Watson."

John huffed, almost laughing and shook his head. "That's me. Always missing my chance. I could have had a life time career in the army if I hadn't gotten shot. I could have been a doctor if I hadn't moved in with Sherlock. And apparently now I could have been a police man."

Greg shook his head and cupped John's cheeks. "You missed the point, John. You are not missing anything. You're not nothing. You are John Watson--crack shot, patient. Your morals have saved countless lives. I'm honored to know you."

John pinked. "You've got me in your bed; you don't have to butter me up."

"I rather thought it was your bed, but how about we call it our bed?" Greg said. He leaned forward and up, stealing an unwilling kiss. "Let's sleep some. You'll feel better in the morning."

~~~

Things weren't better in the morning.

Or for the next several mornings.

In fact, things didn't begin to look up for another week.

Sherlock managed to find the abandoned warehouse where the killer had been. Instead of finding body parts or instruments used to take apart bodies--two of the found bodies had been killed in one spot and dropped in another--there was only a mocking message. Written in blood on the wall, Sherlock was able to determine that the blood did not belong to any of the found victims and that the killer was six foot, two inches.

"Height, John!" Sherlock had yelled when he discovered it. "If he was six-two this is the height at which he would have written it!"

John continued to be unsettled. Greg knew something was wrong with John, but he couldn't figure out what. Not that he had time--another body had been found, this time missing his nose. 

And somehow his ex-wife decided now was the time to decide when the kids were going to visit during the holidays: "But Will and I wanted to take the kids up to Scotland, meet his family. You know, get the kids to know them before the wedding in the summer. And Will says that when he does visit his family, the visit is never shorter than a week which I know would be most of their vacation, but surely you understand? A day with their dad would be fine, wouldn't it?"

It was a load of bollocks to his ears, an attempt to cut him out of their life completely. The dad who gets called away at all hours by his staff, who couldn't keep his promises.

When Greg walked into a fully decorated 221B, he nearly lost it.

He wasn't the only one. John was on the sofa, pointedly watching the game on the telly and not looking anywhere else.

"Where's Sherlock?" Greg asked.

John's face wrinkled and his waved his hand. "Out. Wouldn't say where."

Greg scrubbed his face and groaned. "Didn't invite you along, then?"

John shook his head. Greg headed to the kitchen and grabbed one of the few bottles in the fridge. "Want one?"

"No," John said vehemently. Greg blinked and looked over at John. The only time John reacted like that to alcohol was when...Greg swore to himself and set the bottle back in the fridge. Instead, he put the kettle on and got out two mugs.

"Rehab again?" Greg asked quietly as he handed John the tea.

John closed his eyes. "Almost." He took a deep breath and looked at Greg. "Institution."

Greg frowned and sat down. "What happened?"

John licked his lips and opened his mouth. Then closed it. Repeated it again. Greg put a hand on John's thigh. "Later?"

John looked so grateful that Greg pulled him close. He said nothing, but made sure John could feel his affection through his touch.

~~~

"It's his sister again?" Sherlock asked later.

Greg crossed his arms over his chest and lifted his chin. "You knew?"

Sherlock took a deep breath and refocused the microscope. "I suspected there was something. The only time he is ever this emotionally upset is when his sister has gone into rehab again. But then the case came along and I had no time to ask or get more data. Thank you for confirming my theory."

Greg sighed. "It's more than that, though. Something really went wrong this time."

Sherlock looked up with a frown. "What happened? Did she say something to him? Do something? Greg--whatever you know--"

"I don't," Greg said. "John said something about institution, but he's not in any space right now to let us know anything more. And I think this case is adding more to it."

Sherlock growled and returned to the microscope. "Couldn't the serial killer have waited until next month? Honestly. I can't have John compromised like this."

Greg half smiled and crossed the room to kiss Sherlock on the temple. Sherlock hummed. "What?"

"John is more important the work, is he?" Greg teased.

Sherlock sighed sufferingly, but Greg had found him out.

~~~

John was holding an ice pack to one of Sherlock's eyes, but not the other. He stubbornly refused to treat the one that he'd punched. "Mad idiot. Going off on your own after a known serial killer who is strong enough to take down men twice your size. Do you realize what could have happened? Do you honestly?"

"John," Sherlock said fiercely.

Greg sighed. "Not here, you two. Save it for later."

"Are we free to go?" Sherlock asked.

Greg waved his hand. "Yes. Go. Stop bothering the staff and do not stop until you are home," he added to John who nodded.

"Are you stopping by tonight?" John asked.

_"Would you mind terribly if we kept the kids for the entire vacation? The trip is so long and Will's family is very excited to meet the kids. You don't mind, right? You have that horrible case right now and I hate to think of you needing to leave them with a babysitter for most of their time with you."_

Greg nodded sadly and John frowned. Sherlock narrowed his eyes. Greg shooed them out of the building before Sherlock could say anything. He had paperwork to finish and any scathing remarks about Greg's life would have to wait.

~~~

"No idea how you managed to pull it off, but thank you," John was saying as Greg entered the flat.

"What's going on?" Greg asked.

Sherlock grinned and pointed at the kitchen where Greg's nose had not been deceived. A small, complete Christmas meal was waiting for them. "What the--"

"There is a chef who owes me a favor," Sherlock said. "Several, in fact. But for this one, I asked him to provide us with a holiday meal for three." Sherlock looked between John and Greg. "I know we all prefer to retreat into silence after a case--myself especially--but I thought this might be more appropriate."

"Why?" John asked.

Sherlock smiled softly and pulled him close. "I think we all need it." He looked at Greg fiercely, conveying his own affection and understanding.

Greg hung his coat up. "Let's eat then. I'm famished."

~~~

Sherlock was practically purring when they all three decided to pile into his bed after the meal was finished. He hadn't eaten much, of course, but had instead contented himself with observing John and Greg. The subject of their various families had not come up, but Greg was determined to get John to open up sooner rather than later.

Sherlock, of course, settled in the middle, and John took the position nearest the door. Greg lay on his side on Sherlock's left and stretched an arm out to wrap both his lovers in his arms.

"Can I just I'm sorry?" John asked quietly. "I shouldn't have taken it out on you both."

Sherlock snorted. "You mean the one time you took it out on us when I will take every available opportunity to verbally burn you both? No apology necessary."

"I'll take a small one, but it isn't your fault so don't worry about it," Greg said. "Even the ever patient John Watson deserves to get angry and lash out once in a while."

"I have a wicked temper, I'll have you know," John said hotly.

"Mm, I know," Sherlock said happily.

John shook his head fondly and kissed Sherlock. "Mad you are."

"Consider this last month's transgressions forgotten," Greg said. "All of us. It's done and forgotten."

John smiled thankfully and Sherlock was indifferent. Greg rested his head on Sherlock's shoulder and felt his stress completely melt away. Tomorrow was Christmas and while he wouldn't be able to spend it with his children--for once, not completely his fault--he was going to be able to spend it with his lovers. No cases, no clients. Just them and a day together. He smiled.


End file.
